Perfect for You
by mickeylover303
Summary: Aside from the unsanitary secretions, Nick really didn't mind. Because somehow it still seemed okay. NickGreg.


Now more than half way through the story, Nick tried to settle himself more comfortably on Greg's couch, his weight causing his body to sink into the cushions.

He turned another page in the book, his eyes gazing quickly over the words as he found himself becoming more captivated by it. He wasn't necessarily a fan of Stephen King, but there was something poignant about the story of four boys searching for a rumored dead body. He picked it up at random, a novella in a book of short stories, something he found on top of Greg's TV.

With the exception of the sounds of soft breathing – which he attributed to himself - it was pretty quiet; something not unusual even though Nick was in the living room area of Greg's apartment. But considering he and Greg were supposed to be watching the game that ended a couple of hours ago…it was still pretty quiet.

_Nick put on his other shoe hurriedly, nearly hopping as he extended his leg to get his heel inside the shoe. His cell phone was tucked in between his cheek and his shoulder, bulky and uncomfortable against his skin as he waited for Greg to pick up as he listened to the phone ringing for a second time. Greg should have answered by now._

_He was late. Not unbearably so, but he intended to meet Greg at his place a little over thirty minutes ago to watch the football game that would start in fifteen minutes: Texas A&M against Texas. It was a longstanding rivalry that Nick had no qualms about playing into, undoubtedly rooting for his alma mater. Greg didn't really care much for specific teams, more interested in a good game, but Nick had a feeling Greg chose to cheer for Texas simply because Nick was going for the opposing team._

_It was along the lines of something Greg would do and something Nick eventually learned to take it in stride because he knew he would have done it, too._

_Nick cursed as he dodged tripping over a chair, the phone continuing to ring for a fourth time. Another ring and Nick would be listening to Greg's voicemail, but he exhaled impatiently when there was an audible click on the other line._

"_Hey, man. Sorry, I'm running a little late, but we're still on for the game, right? I'll even bring extra chips this time," Nick added as a notion of some sort of apology. He waited for a response that didn't come._

"_Greg?" he asked hesitantly, grabbing his keys from the counter as he narrowed his eyes. He knew better and preferred not to jump to conclusions but working in his profession taught him to leave no room for error._

_There was a brief moment of silence until Nick heard uneven breathing on the other end, apprehension quickly turning to uncertainty when he heard a vaguely familiar voice._

"…_hello?"_

_It was a odd combination of a drawl that became something that sounded close to a squeak, at which point hearing, some part of Nick marveled that Greg's voice could even go that high._

_Nick didn't dwell on the fact that despite the distorted sound, Nick knew it was Greg's voice and had no doubt in his mind that it was Greg's voice. The realization receded in his thoughts as he found his concern somewhat lessening, but still lingering on the strange tone, or tones, in Greg's voice._

_He knew better than to think that Greg was drunk or experiencing a hangover; knowing being inebriated was a state the younger man stayed far away from. So, he could only conclude that Greg was sick, deciding not to play into his imagination that had more than twenty plausible scenarios running through his head._

"…_Greg?" Nick asked again, only able to hear Greg's shallow breathing on the other end. "Stay with me, all right? I'm on my way right now."_

It turned out Greg _was_ sick.

And after finding the spare key hidden above Greg's front door, Nick entered the apartment to find Greg sprawled out on the floor of his kitchen, cell phone some distance away from his body, to which Nick could only raise his eyebrows and assume it was because the tiles were cool against the other man's skin.

Four spoonfuls of vegetable soup, three nearly missed trips to the bathroom, two cups of water and one missed game later, Nick had finally been able to get Greg comfortable…as comfortable as he could get anyway, though, it was better than nothing. Nick had taken care of his fair share of sick people, but neither of those circumstances could compare to the prolonged four hours he'd spent watching over Greg, who was the most peculiar person when he was sick.

Pausing in his reading, Nick stilled as he placed a hand in between the pages of the book. He narrowed his eyes when he heard a sound, a soft rustling of fabric accompanied by faint breathing behind him. Slowly, he placed the book face down beside him, making sure to save his place. He turned around warily, trying not to fall further into the couch as he moved his body to peer over the furniture to see the source of the almost imperceptible noise.

Nick couldn't help but make a face at the sight before him, almost jumping back when he met the image of Greg staring at him, blinking back owlishly.

If there was one thing Nick did learn about Greg - in all the time that he'd know him - was that the younger man was a fairly incoherent person when something affected him physically...in which it consequently affected him mentally in some capacity. Whether it was due to a sprained ankle - or in this case - apparent sickness, Greg wouldn't seem as…lucid – for lack of a better word. It was to the point where it would warrant Nick actually going to Greg's apartment, some place Nick had found himself more often lately.

He didn't even want to think of how Greg ever managed without him.

"Do you want to sit with me…on the couch?" Nick asked slowly, sighing when the younger man only continued to stare at him, apparent confusion in his eyes. He wasn't quite sure why – or more importantly _how_ – Greg left the comfort of his bed where Nick last left him; warm and buried beneath the blankets and only some of his matted hair visible. But here Greg was, legs somehow entangled together as he sat patiently behind his own couch, wearing no more than a pair of bright red boxers and a grey long-sleeved shirt that seemed too big for him.

Reaching over the couch, Nick placed the back of his hand on Greg's forehead. He wasn't surprised when Greg didn't flinch, more relieved to discover that the other man's fever had gone done considerably.

Nick inhaled deeply when he turned around to lift himself from the couch. Intent on entering Greg's bedroom, Nick shook his head as he walked past Greg, the other man not taking his eyes off Nick. Returning to the living room with a large blanket now in hand, Nick would have been disturbed to find Greg still gazing at him, eyes following his movement, but he reminded himself that Greg was sick.

He draped the blanket over the couch as he turned to the man still sitting on the floor and still peering up at him. Nick kneeled down, positioning Greg's arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Greg." Placing his arm around Greg's waist, Nick started to stand, hoping Greg would at least understand the course of action. "I can't carry you like last time."

Nick grunted when Greg began to use his legs, satisfied that he had gotten through to the other man. Because Greg was essentially deadweight and while Nick knew he could probably pick Greg up – the slight strain on his back withstanding – he wasn't sure the idea would work out too well.

And it was only a short distance to get Greg to the couch; a couple of feet give or take.

But apparently it was a short distance that took longer than Nick thought it would as he found himself almost stumbling, nearly tripping over Greg's feet as the other man leaned heavily against him. He sighed when he finally managed to get Greg on the couch, more or less letting the other man lapse into the cushions.

Obviously, Greg had no idea what just transpired, or what was happening in general as he maintained watching Nick. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at the other man somewhat expectantly; Nick sitting down beside him and the book Nick was reading earlier between them, almost lost within the couch.

Rolling his eyes, Nick picked up the blanket draped over the couch, carefully wrapping it around Greg in hopes that the other man would see it as incentive to fall asleep again. Picking up the book once more, Nick turned his head to the side in a futile attempt to escape Greg's line of vision, now beginning to feel uncomfortable from the attention, intentional or not. Again, he knew to expect this kind of _behavior_ – if he wanted to put it nicely – from Greg, but it was still more than a little disconcerting. Figuring it was in his best interest to ignore it for now and use it for well disguised extortion purposes later, Nick returned to his reading, picking up the book in an attempt to create some kind of normalcy from the situation.

No matter how little in the sense of normal and routine in the situation there actually was.

Nick froze when he felt something resting against his shoulder, turning his head only to find Greg leaning on him. Greg's eyes were closed as he curled against the older man, blanket pulled over his body and breathing softly.

Sighing again, Nick was at least happy that Greg was asleep once more, surmising that the younger man probably needed more than the usual eight – or in their case four – hours of sleep to become…well, Greg. Because the semi-conscious person that was supposed to be Greg made Nick wary and more appreciative of the Greg he'd grown to know over the past year or so.

Though, it wasn't that Nick necessarily minded taking care of a sick Greg because being the kind of person he was, or at least having the kind of conscience he had, he couldn't – in good faith – let Greg fare whatever illness he had on his own. And he would like to think that Greg would do the same thing for him if their situations were reversed.

That's what friends would do.

And by now, he and Greg were pretty close.

But Nick couldn't help the disgust that marred his features when he lowered his head to see Greg's nose was running, mucus darkening the material of Nick's shirt as Greg buried his face further into Nick's shoulder.

* * *

_:insert standard issue dislcaimer here:_

_Not much to say about this (no attempt at something witty). It's part of WibG and takes place in the first season...some time after **Wish I Knew**, which means this is preslash._

_And if anyone caught the allusion to a certain song about stars and their loss of sight...well, nevermind that._


End file.
